


amasai <3

by nauticalwarrior



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Romance, just a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13843455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/pseuds/nauticalwarrior
Summary: A collection of amasai drabbles!! I'll just add things as I write them and I'll post ratings and warnings for the chapter in the notes of that chapter.





	1. bad at kissing

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1: saihara is bad at kissing. amami gives him a tutorial

Shuuichi leans up against Amami's shoulder, soaking in his body heat. His eyes are starting to slip shut, and he lets his head drop onto his boyfriend’s shoulder, soft fabric under his cheek. Amami sighs softly underneath him.

“Hey, Saihara-kun?” His voice vibrates against Shuuichi's cheek as he speaks.

“Mm?” 

“Don't fall asleep, okay? You said you'd help me with this.” He gestures to the homework laid out in front of them, pencil lines turned into blurry smears by the lack of focus in Shuuichi's gaze. He sits up anyways, blinking to try and wake himself up. Amami's right, of course. He should focus. On the studying.

Shuuichi can tell he's blushing the tiniest bit when he puts his hand on top of Amami's, the one he's not using to write. Amami looks at him curiously, then smiles. 

“Y’know, you're actually pretty distracting.” Amami chuckles. “I'd much rather kiss you than do any homework.” 

Shuuichi swallows and looks down at the paper. “O-Oh...” He feels Amami shift, turn their hands so that their fingers are interlocking. A blush creeps down Shuuichi’s face, down his neck and collar. 

“If that’s okay, I mean. Sorry, I didn’t--”

“No, that’s not it!” Shuuichi looks back up at Amami. “It’s just... I’m not very good at kissing.”

He sees Amami’s face shift, his eyebrows furrow, and then go up, his lips parting slightly. “Oh...  _ Oh _ .” Amami laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Is that why you haven’t wanted to?”

Shuuichi nods, resisting the urge to look back down at the floor. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine!” Amami tugs at his shirt collar, looks at the space just to the left of Shuuichi’s face. “But... if you’d be okay with it, maybe I could give you a tutorial?”

“A tutorial?” Shuuichi blinks, licking his lips at the thought. He stops as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, fighting back another blush.

“Yeah!” Amami smiles a tilts his head, his head shifting with the movement. “I don’t mind if you’re a bad kisser, really. The only way to get better at it is to  _ do _ it, anyway.”

“I, um.” Shuuichi swallows. “Yeah. I can try that.” He’s suddenly aware of just how close together they’re sitting, their hips and thighs touching. Shuuichi swears he can hear Amami’s heartbeat from this close, and he can certainly hear his own as Amami leans forward.

“Usually people shut their eyes.” Amami’s hand is soft and warm against Shuuichi’s cheek. “You’re going to want to tilt your head... yeah, like that.” He giggles softly, and Shuuichi can feel his breath ghost across his lips before he closes the distance between them. 

Amami’s lips are as warm as the rest of him, soft and pillowy against Shuuichi’s. Shuuichi freezes for a second, overwhelmed by the heat rising to his face, but when Amami wraps an arm around his waist, he relaxes, letting Amami lead. He doesn’t remember shutting his eyes, but they’re definitely closed when Amami shifts, pulling at Shuuichi’s bottom lip gently. Shuuichi gasps before he can stop himself, and Amami chuckles against his lips.

He pulls away, and Shuuichi misses him already. “Good?”

Shuuichi nods quickly, resisting the urge to raise a hand to his face and see if it’s really as warm as it feels. “Yeah. Really good.”


	2. model!saihara and fashion designer!amami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all i write is college aus  
> sue me  
> anywayyyy i hope you all like this!!

“What’re you working on, Amami-kun?” Shirogane leans forward, watching him run the sapphire fabric through the sewing machine.

“It’s a dress shirt, hopefully.” Rantarou doesn’t take his eyes off of the bobbing needle and thread, but he does lift his foot from the pedal the tiniest bit. 

“For the formalwear project?” Shirogane must notice his nod, because she hums and keeps talking. “Well, I think that color is plain gorgeous. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“What are you making?”

“Me?” She sounds surprised that he asked at all. “A dress, I think. Something with a lot of frills and ruffles, something complex. I’m in a complex kind of mood.” 

\--

Rantarou thinks it should be illegal for a boy to be so  _ pretty _ . 

It’s not unusual for him to see models, not in his fashion design classes, but none of them have ever gotten to him quite as badly as the dark haired boy standing in front of him, golden eyes watching carefully from behind navy blue hair, shiny and soft looking in the light. Rantarou pretends to be busy with the clothing, not staring at his model. What is  _ wrong  _ with him? This is just his job, and there’s no way he wants people creeping on him like this. He just needs to keep his mind on the project.

“We’ve been doing formal wear, so I was thinking of doing a play on a suit.” He holds up the mostly-finished dress shirt, crisp folds and neat seams buried in the blue. “Oh, I’m Amami Rantarou. Nice to meet you.” 

“I-I’m Saihara Shuuichi.” The model--Saihara--plays with the end of his sleeve and smiles the tiniest bit. “I look forward to working with you, Amami-kun.”

\--

“How does it look?” Rantarou holds up his phone, letting Akamatsu get a better look at it. “I’m still going to make a jacket and waistcoat, and I’ll hem the pants of course.”

“It’s beautiful, Amami-kun. I think I know your model, too.” Akamatsu looks up from the screen, a playful smile on her face. “You’ve been talking about him a lot.”

“I spend a lot of time with him.” Rantarou scratches the side of his neck, looking away. “It’s just for the project.”

Akamatsu hums. “Well, Saihara-kun is a good friend of mine. If you want to hang out with him outside of class, I could give you a hand.”

“I’m good, but thank you.” Rantarou tries to pretend he doesn’t  _ really  _ want to see Saihara outside of class, that the thought sends butterflies spinning in his stomach. 

\--

“It looks really nice, Amami-kun.” Saihara twists in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection. Rantarou is not looking at his ass. He’s actually looking at literally anything  _ but  _ his model’s ass. “I don’t think I’ve worn anything this comfortable before, not for modelling.”

Rantarou swallows. “Really?” His mouth is dry, his heartbeat too strong at his pulse points. 

“Yeah. You’ve done a really good job.” Saihara smiles at him, a tiny upward tick of his lips, and the words  _ lovestruck _ ring through Rantarou’s mind.

“Thank you.” Rantarou smiles at him, then turns back to the table. “I want you to try on the jacket now. The waistcoat’s almost ready, too, but I want to make sure this shape is going to work for your body before I do anything else.” He picks up the heavy fabric of the jacket’s shoulders, and when Saihara turns, he helps him slide it over his arms and onto his back. Rantarou is struck by how small and yet strong Saihara looks, how the milky white skin at the nape of his neck flows into the muscles of his shoulders, sculpted and lean. He swallows too hard as he steps back, letting Saihara turn to face him.

“How does it... are you okay?” Saihara’s brow furrows just the tiniest bit. “You’re red...”

Rantarou blinks. “Me? I’m fine!” He laughs, trying to play it down. 

“Are you sure? It’s pretty hot in here.” Saihara’s giving him the most skeptical look Rantarou’s seen in a long time.

“I’m sure! Now, how does that fit?”

\--

“Just ask him out already! Even I can see that it’s meant to be.” Shirogane holds a finger up. “He’s obviously interested in you too.”

“No, he’s just polite.” Rantarou sighs. “You just want him to like me back because you’re my friend.” 

Shirogane rolls her eyes. “I  _ am  _ your friend, but you’re also ignoring the facts! It’s plain to see that he’s interested in you just as much as you are in him.”

Rantarou puts his pencil down. It’s not like he was getting any studying done anyways. “It wouldn’t be professional of me. It’d be  _ creepy _ . I’ve seen him practically naked, and he’s getting paid to keep changing clothes in front of me. If he  _ doesn’t  _ like me back, and I make a move, it’s going to be bad. I can’t.”

Shirogane wilts. “Yeah... I really do think he likes you back, though.”

Rantarou looks down, lets his hair fall in his face. “I hope so.”

\--

Rantarou steps in a slow circle around Saihara, trying to focus on how the clothing looks and not how the model looks. Saihara’s kind of hard to ignore though, especially with the way the dark blue of the shirt makes his hair glow navy and cerulean, the way the cream and gold waistcoat makes his eyes glint like precious metal. The neat lines of the suit cling to his waist and shoulders in just the right way, and Rantarou is prouder of this outfit than he has been of anything he’s made. He realizes he’s grinning like an idiot when Saihara catches his eye.

“I think that’s a good sign, right?” Saihara smiles back at him, playful in a way he hadn’t been at the start of the project. 

“Yeah. You-- It looks amazing.” Rantarou hopes that Saihara doesn't read into his slip up too deeply. From the way Saihara's face stays bright and smiling, it doesn't bother him.

“I think so too, Amami-kun.” Saihara turns, looking in the mirror propped up against the wall. “I, um. I was wondering if... nevermind.” 

Amami blinks, watching Saihara's face slowly color red in his reflection, the nervous edge to his smile. “Wondering what?” 

“C-could I have your number? I like hanging out with you, and I don't want to just disappear when your project is over.” Saihara looks at him through the mirror, their eyes meeting in the glass. 

“Sure,” Rantarou breathes out, his breath too warm in his throat. “I'd like that.”

\--

**_Saihara:_ ** hello, amami-kun

**_Rantarou:_ ** hi!! 

**_Saihara:_ ** how have you been?

**_Rantarou:_ ** tired, but good

**_Saihara:_ ** i hope you're not tired because of the waistcoat

**_Rantarou:_ ** no!!

**_Rantarou:_ ** well, i am, but it's not your fault. you're the best model i've ever had

**_Saihara:_ ** really?

**_Rantarou:_ ** yeah. it's easy to make something look good on a pretty person

**_Saihara:_ ** thank you :)

\--

“You're flirting with him. It's obvious.” Akamatsu leans forward, elbows on the table. “He likes you back! Just ask him out already!” 

Rantarou groans, burying his face in his hands. “It's not that simple!”

“What's not simple about it? You like him, he likes you. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“Look, Akamatsu-san, I appreciate it, but I...” Rantarou sighs. “I don't know. I don't want to mess things up right before the show. He... He has every right to deny me but he's too nice to do it right before the project ends.”

Akamatsu frowns. “He  _ won't _ , though. He likes you back, Amami-kun.”

Rantarou shakes his head. “I don't know that.”

\--

When Saihara steps onto the catwalk, Rantarou is suddenly very aware of how  _ not  _ straight he is. 

The suit clings to Saihara's edges, to the dip in his waist, to the smooth lines of his shoulders and hips. The color is perfect under the spotlights, a navy blue night sky over gold and cream and sapphire. The most beautiful part of it all is the muted golden of Saihara's eyes, round coins of wonder and elegance. Rantarou finds his breath taken out of his chest, stolen by the glow of Saihara's eyes, the strong, somber expression on his face as he turns and walks back down the catwalk. Rantarou sits frozen in place until the last model walks down and back, his eyes open but still seeing Saihara, navy and gold and resplendent. The house lights come on, and Rantarou makes a beeline for backstage. 

“Saihara-kun?” His voice sounds breathless in his own ears, and when Saihara turns to look at him, he's having trouble breathing again. 

“Amami-kun!” Saihara smiles, looks shy. “Did I do alright?”

“You--” Rantarou swallows, stepping closer. “You did amazing. You're beautiful.” He licks his lips as Saihara looks up at him, long eyelashes brushing pale cheeks as he slowly blinks.

“Me, or the clothes?” Maybe they're  _ too _ close together. The other models have poured out into the changing rooms, and it's just Rantarou and Saihara, almost touching in the dim lights. Rantarou wonders if Saihara's eyes really glow in the dark, or if it's just a mirage.

“You. The clothes too, but...” Rantarou trails off, taking a step back. This is pushing the boundaries he's been so careful to preserve this whole time. “Sorry, I--”

Saihara moves forward, closing the distance between them, and slides his hand onto Rantarou’s cheek. “A-Amami-kun, can I...?”

Rantarou thinks he must be as red as Saihara is right now. This has to be a dream. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.” 

Saihara's lips feel like polished silk on his, warm and smooth and heavenly. Rantarou puts his hands on Saihara's waist, inching closer as the kiss deepens slightly. He can feel Saihara's hand slip back, sliding into his hair, and he takes the opportunity to part his lips a tiny bit. Saihara seems to notice, because he does the same, and Rantarou tries to keep from gasping as the kiss goes from chaste to almost sloppy. Rantarou bites gently at Saihara's lower lip, tugging at it, but Saihara pulls back.

“Saihara-kun?” Rantarou feels his brow furrow. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! It's just, I don't think this is the right place to be...” Saihara looks down, blushing. “Um. Do you want to get dinner? Now that the project is over? I've been wanting to ask, but...”

Rantarou blinks. “Saihara-kun, I'd love that. I've, um,” he scratches the side of his neck. “I've sort of had a crush on you since the project started, actually.”

Saihara’s eyebrows go up, his mouth forming a small o. “You too?” He smiles awkwardly, shaking his head slightly. “We’re both pretty oblivious.”

“Yeah,” Rantarou says, laughing slightly. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Saihara's forehead. “Dinner now?”

Saihara’s face turns red again, but he nods, still smiling. “Yeah, dinner.”


End file.
